A Birthday in Bed
by NinjaKittehz
Summary: It's up to the Weasleys to keep Harry company after his eighteenth birthday is marred by illness. Sick!Harry. Chimaeraverse. Please leave a review - I can't improve my writing without criticism!


**I DON'T OWN.**

* * *

The scent of eggs and sausage wafting through the Burrow the final morning of July spawned a grumbling and grumpy Ron Weasley. "I'm gonna kill him," he growled as he sat down at the table with a huff.

"Well, good morning to you, too, brother o' mine," said George pleasantly.

"There will be no murder in this house, Ronald Weasley, especially not today," said Mrs. Weasley as she placed a plate of breakfast in front of him. "Goodness knows the last thing poor Harry needs on his special day is more bloodshed."

"Even if it's his own?" said Ron around a mouthful of food.

"Hey! Say it, don't spray it!" said Percy, wiping egg from the front of his robes.

"_Especially_ if it's his own," said Mrs. Weasley sternly, turning back to the stove to fill a plate for Hermione as the young witch sat down next to Ron.

"Why would you want to kill your best friend, anyway?" said Charlie.

"He's currently upstairs snogging Ginny's lights out," said Ron, his ears turning red.

"D'awwwww!" swooned George, puckering his lips. Ron flicked some egg at him.

"_Ronald!_" Mrs. Weasley admonished.

"Don't tell me _none_ of you mind that our little sister's probably being felt up as we speak!" said Ron.

"I dunno, Ron," said Bill. "I find it rather hard to picture Mr. Noble Hero taking advantage of hot-headed little Ginny like that."

"Who're you calling 'little'?"

Everybody turned to find Ginny in the doorway, hand-in-hand with Harry, her hair down and neat and her clothes on straight and unwrinkled.

"…Nobody," said Bill, shrinking into his seat.

"I should certainly hope so," said Ginny as she sat down next to Hermione.

"And here's the birthday boy!" said Mrs. Weasley, engulfing Harry in a hug. "Eighteen! Already! Feels like only yesterday you were eleven!"

Harry blushed, looking exceedingly happy as he took his seat next to Ginny. But the smile that graced his face slipped once Mrs. Weasley placed his plate in front of him.

"What's the matter, dear?" the Weasley matriarch asked, watching Harry stare uncertainly at the food piled high before him.

"I don't think I can eat all this," said Harry shyly.

"Well, that's quite alright; we'll just take some off and you can have more if you want it," said Mrs. Weasley. Harry nodded, and she scooped some of his breakfast back into the pan. But still the newly-turned eighteen-year-old seemed reluctant as he began to eat and stopped a few bites in.

"I'm sorry, Mum, I'm just not hungry," he said, sounding ashamed.

"Don't you worry, dear, appetites come and go," said Mrs. Weasley, taking his plate from him. "But I do insist that you eat something. Would you like some toast instead?"

"Yes, please," said Harry softly. He stared into his lap as Mrs. Weasley made toast and accepted it gratefully when it was done. He only managed a few tiny nibbles before leaping to his feet and dashing out of the kitchen.

"Oh, dear," said Mrs. Weasley as the sound of vomiting reached them. She followed Ginny as her daughter bolted to the bathroom.

"I'm sorry," said Harry from the bathroom floor, looking up at his surrogate mother as Ginny stroked his hair.

"There is no need to apologize, sweetheart," said Mrs. Weasley. "No need at all."

Once his stomach was sufficiently emptied and his mouth was rinsed out, Harry was moved from the bathroom and upstairs to his own room – once Percy's before the older wizard had taken up Fred's old bed to provide George with some company. Mrs. Weasley also brought up some extra toast, a glass of ginger ale and a hot water bottle before shooing everybody from the room to let Harry be.

"Looks like it's gonna be a birthday in bed." George's voice drifted up the stairs, the last thing Harry heard as fitful slumber claimed him.

* * *

"He looks terrible."

"I _know_, and poor theeng – on hees birthday of all days!"

"Chimaera Fever is _merciless_."

"And his fever?"

"A hundreed and two point three. Arthur took hees temperature."

"Quiet, I think you woke him!"

"Oh, _we_ woke him, did we?"

Harry blinked up at three figures towering over his bed: one brown, one red and one yellow. He reached his hand out to the red one.

"Gin…ny?"

Ginny's small hand grasped his own as his glasses were slipped onto his face. "I'm here, Harry. Some birthday, eh?"

Harry smiled weakly. "Some birthday."

"How do you feel?" asked Hermione, sitting down beside Ginny on the side of the bed.

"Bad," said Harry honestly. "Stomach hurts."

Ginny reached over to the nightstand, grabbing the hot water bottle. She pulled the covers back slightly as Harry sat up a bit and pressed the bottle to his belly. He sighed.

"Feels good," he said, laying back down. "What are you all doing here?"

"Ees a girl not allowed to check een on her leetle brother or boyfriend every so ofteen?" said Fleur.

"I'm your little brother, too?" asked Harry, astonished. He thought he was just some in-law.

"Of course you're my leetle brother!" said Fleur. "You call Charlie your beeg brother, and you don't know heem half as well as you know me."

"True," Harry admitted. He enjoyed the feel of Ginny's hand running through his hair and the hot water bottle against his stomach, and eventually his eyes started to drift shut. The last thing he heard before sleep claimed him was Ginny's soothing voice telling him to rest.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

"How is he?" asked Mrs. Weasley as Hermione and Fleur came downstairs.

"No better, no worse," said Hermione. "He's asleep."

"Good theeng, too," added Fleur. "'e has a stomeechache. Geenny ees weeth heem."

Mrs. Weasley sighed and busied herself making tea and an immunity potion, attempting to distract herself from the thought of Harry being in pain. Eventually a loud knock sounded at the door, making her yelp and very nearly spill boiling-hot tea on herself. Charming her spoon to stir the potion itself with a flick of her wand, she rushed to the door and swung it open to reveal…

"Hagrid!"

"'ello, there, Molly," said the gentle giant. He had his trademark pink umbrella and was carrying a small box. "Is the birthday boy around?"

Mrs. Weasley cringed. "Well, yes, but I'm afraid he's taken ill," she said.

Hagrid's massive jaw went slack. "Yer joking!"

"Come now, Hagrid, do you think I'd lie just to get you off our doorstep?" said Mrs. Weasley. "Do come in, though, have some tea! Should be nice and hot."

"Wha's he down with?" asked Hagrid as he squeezed through the doorway, bonking his head on the way in.

"The stomach flu, it would seem," said Mrs. Weasley, pouring the half-giant a cup of tea.

"Oh, dear," said Hagrid darkly. "No slugs, I presume?"

Mrs. Weasley, having heard of the debacle in Ron's second year, chuckled. "No slugs, thank goodness. He is in a fair bit of pain, though. Ginny's upstairs with him if you'd like to visit."

"I'd love to," said Hagrid.

"Excellent! You just finish your tea first, dear; I've got an immunity potion that's almost ready."

Five minutes later, Mrs. Weasley poured eleven goblets of potion, one of which she drank down and another of which Hagrid downed in a single gulp.

"We've given him Percy's room – third door on your right off the first first landing. If you could give one to Ginny when you go up..." said Mrs. Weasley as the half-giant turned to leave the room. Hagrid readily agreed and, being careful not to slop potion all over the place, slowly climbed the stairs and knocked on the door of Percy's old room.

"Come in," came a call that he recognized as sweet little Ginny's voice. He entered the room, nearly knocking the door off its hinges and startling poor Harry, who, thank Merlin, seemed to have already been awake. Ginny – by golly she'd grown – was sat next to his bed with one hand on his knee as he pressed a hot water bottle to his stomach. His eyes were clouded by fever and pain, his face flushed and pale. Ginny may have grown from a shy child to a brave and bold young woman, but Harry seemed in that moment to be the same little boy Hagrid had met exactly seven years ago.

"Oh! Hello, Hagrid!" said Ginny cheerily. Harry perked up a little bit, giving his very first-ever friend a small smile.

"'ello, Ginny," said Hagrid just as cheerily. "Brought you an immunity potion and a little something fer Harry, although I dunno if he'll like ter open it just yet."

"What is it?" asked Harry, eyeing the small white box as Hagrid handed it to him.

"It's a broomstick, 'arry," said Hagrid sarcastically. "I'm not supposed ter tell ya!"

His curiosity getting the better of him, Harry opened the package. It was a cake with pink icing and the words "HAPPEE BIRTHDAE HARRY" emblazoned in green.

"Reckon Molly'll be makin' one, too, but I figured I'd make it anyway. Been seven years, it has!"

Ignoring his abdomen's protests, Harry leapt off the bed and wrapped his arms as far around Hagrid as he could. "I don't know what I'd do if you hadn't come seven years ago." Suddenly his nausea returned full-force. "…Except perhaps puke."

Ginny leapt forward with the rubbish bin in hand, sticking it under Harry's chin just in time for him to vomit the few bites of toast he'd eaten since going to bed. Hagrid looked on, concern for the boy mixing with admiration at the way Ginny was handling it. Not many teenage girls would take so kindly to the presence of bile in their proximities, as he had learned well through the experience of teaching Care of Magical Creatures. But this teenage girl showed no sign of disgust as she whispered words of comfort and rubbed her boyfriend's back. When at last he finished he looked more feverish than before. Beads of sweat now dripped down his chalk-white face and plastered his hair to his head. He stumbled back to bed, grasping his tiny belly.

Hagrid cleared his throat once Ginny had her boyfriend all tucked in and it was evident he was starting to fall asleep. "I might as well get going. I imagine you'll be wantin' ter spend time alone with 'im an' all…"

"Would you like to stay with him a little longer?" asked Ginny. "I rather need a shower and I'd like to get my gift for him, so…"

"Ya sure?" asked Hagrid.

Ginny sniffed her underarm for good measure and looked up at him with a wrinkled nose. "Positive."

Hagrid laughed, enlarged Ginny's chair, and sat down, patting the girl – the _young woman_ – gently but jovially on the back and humming to himself.

Harry was snoring.

* * *

Harry was still snoring when Ginny returned, fresh and clean in a pair of jeans and a cotton Gryffindor tee and carrying a small box wrapped in ornate golden paper.

"I'll just…leave yah to it," said Hagrid, relinquishing his seat after a wee bit of spellwork to shrink it back to its original size. He gave Harry one last look before departing.

Ginny sighed and sat down, content to watch her ailing boyfriend sleep. It didn't take him very long to wake, however, as within the span of a few minutes he shot up in bed with a sharp gasp.

"Bad dream?" said Ginny, rubbing his back as his hands shot to his stomach.

"Stomach pains," said Harry. "Bottle?"

Ginny didn't need asking twice. She grabbed the hot water bottle from the nightstand, where Hagrid had put it back.

"It's bad," said Harry, taking the bottle and pressing it to his belly. "Really bad."

"Oh, poor thing," Ginny sighed. It hurt her to no end to see her boyfriend in such pain. "Would you like a little distraction?"

"Distractions are nice," said Harry through fever-bleared eyes. Ginny smiled and handed him the box. "Present?" At her nod, Harry peeled the golden paper away and opened the ornate white-and-gold box within.

It was a locked in the shape of a Golden Snitch, and inside was a picture of him and Ginny, taken during those sunlit days back in sixth year.

"Colin took it," said Ginny. "I got two copies from Dennis a few weeks ago."

"Two?" aske dHarry, fastening the locket around his neck. Ginny smiled and pulled from under her robes a second locket, this one in the shape of a Quaffle.

"We match." Harry's smile was as small and weak as he seemed to be. "Thank you, Gin, I love it. Almost as much as I love you."

Ginny leaned her forehead against his, feeling the heat radiating off of him in waves. "I love you, too, Harry – so, _so_ much."

_Knock, knock._

"Oi, you two lovebirds almost done in there?" said George. "You're not the only one who wants to give the birthday boy a gift, Gin."

"Yeah, yeah, stop cockblocking," Ginny called back.

"Was that an admission?" asked George, poking his head in, a grin splitting his face. "I'm telling Ro-on!" he sang jovially.

"It's a figure of speech!" Ginny defended. "And you will do no such thing!"

"Yeah, yeah," said George, waving her off. "Now shoo. I wanna spend some quality time with the birthday boy."

"So long as you don't steal him from me," Ginny grumbled as she kissed Harry good-bye and left the room.

"Oi! I happen to be dating Angelina!" George called after her before turning to Harry with a shrug. "Jealous much?"

Despite the pain ripping through his insides, Harry couldn't help but smile at Big Brother George's antics.

"Now that's what I like to see," said George, sitting down where Ginny and Hagrid had both previously sat. "So anyway, Birthday Bro, I got you a little something. I think you'll like it." He pulled a small box wrapped in bronze paper from his pocket and handed it to Harry. It was another necklace, this one a Galleon fastened on a thin but strong silver chain. He looked up at the earless Weasley, confused.

"The DA?" he asked.

"Nope," said George, popping the 'P'. "It's a Chimaera Coin. Keep it close to your heart and the one you want most in that moment – even if you don't realize it – will know to come. I'm giving one to the others, too, and I have one myself. Ron and Hermione have been helping me with it since your diagnosis."

"Neat," said Harry in a hoarse voice, slipping the coin around his neck. It went well with Ginny's Snitch locket. "Thank you."

"No problem-o, little bro," said George.

The two talked of the shop and Aurors and Ginny until Harry started to feel nauseous again. It quickly got the better of him and he threw up all over Geroge's lap. "S-sorry," he stammered reaching for his wand and trying in vain to Vanish the mess.

"Hey, heyheyheyheyhey," said George, Vanishing the sick himself and helping him roll back onto the pillows. "Don't you dare apologize. You couldn't help it."

"It just came so suddenly," said Harry, curling up into a little ball.

"I know," said George. "I understand, believe me."

They continued to chat, but as much as Harry truly loved Big Brother George, a part of him wished for a sisterly hug as the pains in his stomach returned full-force. He felt his Chimaera Coin go warm and heard frantic footsteps from upstairs. A few moments later Hermione came in, looking worried.

"You called?"

"I suppose he did," said Geroge, standing up. "What's up with you? It's the stomach flu, not a heart attack."

Indeed, Hermione did look quite harried, but she quickly calmed down. "I guess I'm just excited to know it works."

George scoffed. "Even _I_ don't get that excited, and I'm an inventor!" He chuckled as he dismissed himself from the room. Harry sat up and opened his arms, inviting Hermione to a nice, long and warm hug, exactly what he had been craving.

"How do you feel?" Hermione asked once they separated.

"My stomach keeps acting up and it hurts like the devil," Harry replied, giving it a rub.

"Too bad potions don't work," said Hermione before perking up suddenly. "Oh, but that reminds me – _Accio_ Harry's gift!" A rectangular package wrapped in navy blue flew into her open hand before she presented it to Harry.

"A book, Hermione. _Really,_" said Harry dryly, raising an eyebrow, one hand still moving back and forth across his belly.

"Shut up and open it, smartass," Hermione chuckled.

He did. It was indeed a hardcover book entitled _101 Herbal Remedies_.

"I figured it might be useful," said Hermione, watching him examine the colorful cover. "They've got a large section specifically for stomach ailments."

"Excellent," said Harry, putting the book down on the nightstand and reapplying the hot water bottle to his stomach.

Hermione giggled and pulled him back into a hug. He enjoyed the warmth of her sisterly embrace before his stomach forced him to pull away in time to vomit into the bucket. Once he was done, he settled himself back onto the pillows with a groan, pressing the hot water bottle against his middle.

"You know…" Hermione flipped through the pages of the new book. "It mentions that ginger tea is very good for stomach upsets. Do you want me to go and make you some?"

Harry blinked blearily up at her, the pains in his abdomen quickly becoming so severe he was on the verge of tears. "Could…could Mum?" he asked.

"Well, I'll be!" Hermione huffed half-heartedly.

Harry's chuckle quickly turned into a whine of agony.

"Just hang in there, okay?" Hermione gently wiped the beginning of tears from his face. Harry nodded, his eyes shut tight, and she ducked out of the room to find Mrs. Weasley. Now alone, Harry felt a longing for more company, and the Chimaera Coin responded in kind. Within a minute Ron's tall and gangly form entered the room with a thin green package.

"Heard you needed me," he said, holding up the Chimaera Coin. Harry nodded, and Ron's freckled face fell as he noticed the tears running down his best mate's cheeks. "Hey…" He took the seat next to the bed and patted him on the shoulder. "It'll be okay."

"It really _hurts_, Ron!" Harry cried. The look on his face gave Ron a sense of deja-vu – if he didn't know any better, he'd say they were back at the Battle of Hogwarts and Harry had just come out of Lord Voldemort's mind. But instead the younger wizard broke eye contact as he slipped the hot water bottle under his shirt and pressed down against it, his legs involuntarily kicking.

"I know it does, mate, but it really will be okay." Ron held out his gift. "In the meantime, I got you a little something."

"Can you open it?" Harry asked, writhing.

"Wha? Oh. 'Course." Ron ripped the paper away to reveal something that Harry took to be the sheath of a really small sword. "It's a wand holster, fitted for eleven inches. I figured it'd be useful for when you start your Auror training."

"Yeah," said Harry between gulps of air. "It'll be…" He whimpered. "…Great. Thanks."

Ron's eyes softened. "It _will_ be okay," he said, putting a hand on Harry's hand. "Really."

* * *

But it wasn't.

Not for some time, anyway. Eventually Ron switched out for Charlie, who gave Harry his mother's homemade ginger tea and a miniature figurine of Norberta to go with his Hungarian Horntail, followed by Bill and Fleur, whose gift was – awkwardly enough – a Ukrainian Ironbelly figurine. It was nearing dinnertime when Percy left the birthday boy and his new, magically reinforced glasses to go fetch his parents. The mere thought of them made Harry's Chimaera Coin tingle warmly on his chest.

Mrs. Weasley all but charged into the room with a round package wrapped in Gryffindor colors and her husband following at a more sedate pace.

"How do you feel, Harry dear?" she asked, sitting on the side of the bed and feeling his forehead with the back of her hand.

"Hurts," said Harry. The desperation with which he pressed his stomach left no need for elaboration. Mrs. Weasley put a hand to it, feeling the warmth of the hot water bottle beneath his shirt. He whimpered and kicked out in pain, catching her on the hip, but neither noticed.

After a few quiet moments, Mr. Weasley broke the silence. "We have something for you, Harry," he said, taking the gift and presenting it to the young man he called his son.

Harry glanced at Mrs. Weasley, who nodded in understanding and kept her hand pressed to his stomach. He took the gift, ripping away the scarlet-and-gold paper with shaky hands, and paused. His confused and agonized emerald-green gaze shifted from Arthur to Molly. "It's…your clock."

Mr. Weasley smiled softly. "Take a closer look."

The teenaged wizard squinted despite his glasses. There were the faces and names of Arthur, Molly, Bill, Fleur (who had been added just prior to the wedding), Charlie, Percy, George – no Fred, he noticed – Ron, Ginny…

_Harry._

His face was blinking back at him, a blissful grin on his face. He gave back a weak smile and looked up at Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, tears brimming in his eyes. Mrs. Weasley gently and carefully pulled him upright into her embrace. She opened and closed her mouth for several moments, searching for the best words.

"For everything you've been through," she finally settled on, "you have come out braver, stronger, sweeter and kinder. And all this time you have been as good as our son. Adding you to the family clock just feels right."

"It should have been much better than this, but happy birthday, son," said Mr. Weasley jovially, taking Harry's glasses and ruffling his hair as his youngest boy's sparkling emerald eyes drooped and he drifted off to sleep the way he'd always dreamed – wrapped in his mother's arms.

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed. Please tell me what you think I can do better from here on out, for as much as I love writing sickfics, I find them quite hard. Personally I think they always come out too rushed, if they come out at all (I usually have a devil of a time finding ways to open these fics).**


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